


Walburga’s Hope

by TheLoud



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon Compliant, Don’t copy to another site, Gen, Sirius Black in Azkaban
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:08:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22018417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLoud/pseuds/TheLoud
Summary: Walburga visits Sirius in Azkaban.
Relationships: Sirius Black & Walburga Black
Comments: 12
Kudos: 77





	Walburga’s Hope

The Aurors granted Walburga the deference due to the matriarch of the Black family, and a good thing too, for she was in a foul mood. It was an outrage that a Black had been arrested at all. She could understand forgoing a trial. There was no need to air embarrassing details in public, after all, and Sirius was obviously “guilty” by the Ministry’s mud-loving standards. But to arrest him in the first place! In her day, Aurors knew to treat the Blacks with respect. A young Black misbehaving in public would simply be reported to his parents, who could handle the problem on their own.

Walburga glared at the young Auror walking down the stairs beside her, dimly lit by the sheep patronus that walked ahead. “How much further?” Walburga demanded. 

“Just one more level,” squeaked the Auror. Her patronus flickered, then steadied. “All the Death Eaters are on the lowest level.”

All the surviving Death Eaters who’d had the misfortune to be caught, Walburga mentally corrected the Auror, but she did not speak, for she hadn’t recognized the Auror’s family name, and would not stoop to conversing with a suspected mudblood. Sirius had been caught, true, but at least he had not been killed, which was the important thing. Pure Black blood still ran hot in his veins. 

They finally reached the lowest level and a door, identical to all the other doors, made of steel bars. Walburga looked in. Her son sat slumped on the stone floor. He still wore his terrible muggle clothing, coarse blue trousers, a black leather jacket and matching black boots. The entire ensemble was spattered with blood, now browned, and dusted with pulverized rubble from the exploded street. His pale grey eyes widened when he saw her. “Mother?!” he exclaimed. 

Walburga turned to the mudblood Auror. “Leave us. I wish to speak to my son in private.”

“But—“

“I said leave us!”

“But it’s against policy for—“

“Lock me in with him,” said Walburga. “Give us as much time as possible. A mother deserves to speak in private to her own flesh and blood.”

The Auror looked awkward, but unlocked the door, held it open for Walburga and the sheep patronus, and locked the door behind them. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” she said. Then she cast another sheep patronus for herself and ran. 

The patronus she left lay on the floor and seemed to fall asleep. 

“I brought you chocolate,” said Walburga, drawing it from a pocket of her cloak and holding it out to her son. 

He didn’t take it. “Why?”

“Because you’re in Azkaban,” Walburga explained. “With dementors. Chocolate is an antidote to their effects. But you never did know what was good for you. You’re such a—” Walburga made herself stop talking. It was all too easy to fall into old patterns, which never ended well. This meeting, their last, had to be different. She set the chocolate down on the floor, for there was no table, and started again. She had something important to say. “Your brother is dead.”

This seemed to hit Sirius hard. “I know! James!” he wailed. “It’s all my fault!”

This was not going at all as Walburga had planned. “Not that blood-traitor,” she clarified. “The Potters never officially adopted you anyway. Don’t be absurd. I mean your real brother, Regulus.”

Sirius’s eyes met hers. “Reg?” It seemed to take a while for her meaning to sink in. “How?”

“I don’t know the specifics,” she said. “But his date of death appeared on our tapestry two years ago. I’m sure he died in service to the Dark Lord. I am very proud of my son.” She took a deep breath. “I am very proud of both of my sons.”

Sirius, her only surviving son, last of the noble and most ancient house of Black, stared at her, speechless. 

“I thought the house of Black had no heir,” Walburga continued. “In light of recent events, I am pleased to see that I was mistaken.”

Sirius blinked at her, his pale grey eyes ringed with long black lashes, so like her own, but full of confusion.

“I am not here to discuss why you felt you had to hide your true loyalty from me,” Walburga continued. “I will not say ‘I told you so.’ That’s neither here nor there. I am simply glad you finally saw reason. Now we must discuss what happens next.”

“True loyalty?” repeated Sirius. 

“Yes,” said Walburga. She couldn’t keep the pride out of her voice. “Your true loyalty to the Dark Lord, and your secrecy in concealing it from those mudbloods and blood-traitors! Oh Sirius, I didn’t know you had it in you. I read all about it in the  _ Prophet _ . My son, the Dark Lord’s right hand man! Your father would have been so proud, had he lived to see this day.”

Sirius stared at her. “Proud?” he eventually repeated. 

“Yes, proud. As I am proud of you, son.”

“No.”

“I am!” Why did he have to be so obstinate even now? “I am very proud of you.”

“No. This has got to be a hallucination. I thought the dementors just tortured with memories, but now they’re getting creative.”

“Sirius—“

“Just when I thought things couldn’t possibly get any worse, now my own mother is proud of me. Fuck this shit.”

“Language!”

“Fuck you, you fucking bitch! I never wanted you to be proud of me. I thought at least in Azkaban, I’d never have to see you again. Get out.”

“Sirius, you must listen to me. We don’t have much time. The guard will be back soon.”

“Good. You shouldn’t have come.”

“You have a responsibility to your family!”

“I never asked to be part of your fucking inbred family!”

“Is this really where it ends?” she wailed. “The last heir of the noble and most ancient house of Black, dying in prison? Will I not have a grandson to carry on the family name?”

Sirius perked up at this. He rose out of his slouch, looked her in the eye, even smiled. “Yes,” he said. “The line ends with me.”

The sheep patronus lifted its head and looked out the door. Walburga heard a jingle of keys as the Auror returned and unlocked the door to let Walburga out. 

“Goodbye son,” she tried. “I love you. And I am proud of you.”

“Fuck off, you fucking bitch.”

As Walburga turned to leave, she felt the chocolate, flung through the bars, hit her in the head. It bounced off and landed on the floor. She ignored it and kept walking. 

As she walked out of Azkaban, Walburga felt the weight of the two untouched vials of polyjuice potion in the pocket of her skirt. The potion in one had turned a peculiar shade of greenish-black as soon as she’d added one of her long grey hairs to it. She’d been looking forward to seeing Sirius grimace as he drank it, and seeing him swallow his pride as he donned her witch robes, not that that small amount of suffering would compensate for all the trouble he’d caused her over the years. But he would never drink it, and the other vial would never receive one of Sirius’s hairs for her to drink. Walburga walked out into the sunlight she’d resolved to never see again. Its warmth was small consolation for the destruction of her plans. 

Such a disappointment. 


End file.
